[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/FjVCFoQ.png[/img][/center]
[center][color=cyan][h2]Etoile[/h2]
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Etoile couldn't track magic through the air.

She didn't know why, but for some reason, she'd never been able to feel ether around her. It was like she was missing a sense, and she hated it.

But she didn't [i]need[/i] to be able to track magic through the air to feel it stagnating around her. It felt like she was walking through existential honey. It was a feeling that she hadn't had in a [i]very[/i] long time. Not since she was still in service of the church. And it was still just as alien to her as before.

"[color=cyan]For once,[/color]" she murmured, looking up at the innocuous trees above her, "[color=cyan]I agree with the kid. We're in enemy territory, pretty much right in the nexus of this mysterious maleficarum's power. If they don't already know that we're coming, they're probably a strong enough magi to feel us now that we're this close. This is ambush tactics one-oh-one. If we're not [i]very, very careful[/i], I doubt we'll even see the enemy before we're overwhelmed. I would be pleasantly surprised and amazed if all they have are birds and krovar.[/color]" 

It reminded her of a quote from a book she'd read once: [i]The triumphant seizes their victory before the war has begun, while the fallen goes to war and seeks to win.[/i] If ever she was going to war and seeking to win, it was now. Ill-prepared, injured, miscommunicative, in enemy territory, and with a list of misfits that, while perhaps competent in single combat, would be absolutely useless on a coherent battlefield with a command structure and likely had no idea how to fight a maleficarum...the list went on, and every item on it made her less and less confident that they would somehow manage to pull a win out of this disaster. [i][color=cyan]Enough of that,[/color][/i] she chided herself grimly. [i][color=cyan]This will be hard enough as-is. Get your head together, these idiots stand zero chance without you. If there's no organization in the way we approach this, we're all going to die.[/color][/i]

"[color=cyan]Alright. Pagonia. You're probably the most suited for frontline combat and taking hits. When we go in there, you take point. Clara, the kid and I will be behind you, supporting you, watching the sides, and providing utility. Sparky? You can beat the tar out of anything you touch, but you don't look like you can take a hit and keep on doing so. You play rearguard. Anything comes up behind us, you zap it out of existence. Any objections?[/color]"

There was a desperate hope in Etoile that everyone would for once agree with something, but she wasn't very confident in its coming true. More likely, Pythia would be overly-prideful again, refuse to stay in the rear, take point, and then immediately be dropped by a threat nobody saw coming. And with her gone, so would be a great portion of their combat strength. She raised her eyes to the heavens, delivering a quiet prayer: [i][color=cyan]please, Sol. Don't let these idiots die. I still need them.[/color][/i]